Invincible Summer

How long will this go on? This sense that no matter how awake and aware I might be to the gift of life, the beauty of life, the extraordinary privilege of breathing in and out, the dark cloud of national events is always present. And though it is far from pleasant, I understand that I shouldn't be in a hurry to get back to business as usual. This bears reflection. This is very much a funeral and it deserves the Jewish sitting Shiva 7-day version or the Ghana three or four day version with drumming and dancing alongside the wailing and weeping. 

 

And really, as in both cases, this needs to be a collective mourning, in company with others. Not just the Facebook shares and written words, though they can be useful to a point. We need the physical gathering of people who are suffering because they care and they know a mighty transgression has occurred that didn’t need to happen. There has been a death to just about every standard of decency and intelligence and compassion we hold dear. The weight is simply too much for any of our tiny shoulders. About to board a plane tomorrow to my 42^nd National Orff Conference and I hope there will be some collective carrying of the burden of grief, even as we’re just supposed to learn cool new music lessons for next week’s classes. 

 

But when the crowd disperses, there we are again, waking up alone with the outrage, disbelief, anger, sorrow, fear, despair, helplessness, hopelessness, by our side. I’ve already invoked the “Grey Goose” who will keep flying in freedom regardless of what happens, that part of us events cannot touch, cannot diminish or exile or wound or kill. Today Facebook came through with the same idea spoken by French writer Albert Camus. An important reminder that this drama has been played out time and time again in every era and in every place and we all can gain strength from the wisdom and courage of those who weathered it. 

 

And please note. That “invincible summer” doesn’t come cheap through some pseudo-Buddhist notion that the world is illusion or some New Age prattle that something even more wonderful is soon to be born or some habitual denial that ignoring it all and going shopping is just fine. One must go wholly through the grief. This invincibility is the polar opposite of “A mighty fortress is our God” and we will be protected by His omnipotent presence. The only road to it is through often unbearable pain and suffering born from caring beyond the norm. And it is often our refusal to engage at that level that gives permission for the unspeakable and unthinkable to persist. 

 

In Camus’ words: